


Arms Trade

by futureboy (PokeRowan)



Series: Vagabond vs. In-Laws [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: A homophobe gets murdered too but it's kinda a throwaway line omfg, Established Relationship, Fake AH Crew, Family Secrets, Gun Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 14:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12889695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PokeRowan/pseuds/futureboy
Summary: Sequel to ‘Rule Three’. Jeremy’s mom is in town, but he gets an unexpected call into work... Ryan’s gonna have to do some serious juggling if he wants to keep all his relationships with the Dooleys intact.





	Arms Trade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Useless19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless19/gifts).



> [RPF disclaimer: Written according to guidelines set by RT employees (to the best of my knowledge). This is a fictional series of events using characters inspired by real people.]
> 
> Commissioned by @[ireythegnome](http://ireythegnome.tumblr.com/)!

“ _Jeremy!_ What in God’s name have you done to your _hair?_ ”

“I had a hair dye accident,” he says, self-consciously. “I like it. It’s not that bad to look at, once you get used to it.”

“Used to it?! There’s nothing to get used to!”

“It grows back, mom, c’mon...”

“I don’t understand,” she laughs, “what kind of hair dye accident could you have possibly had?”

“...An orange one,” Jeremy admits.

His mom mutters something in Arabic and shakes her head, staring at the flakes of pastry littering her plate.

Mrs. Dooley is, for once, in town - and seemingly alone, too. Usually when she passes through Los Santos, she’s with his dad on business. Jeremy usually only gets to see her when he flies back to Boston for various holidays, than on the rare occasion his family find themselves on Fakes turf.

So he does what any dutiful, loving son would do, and takes his dear old mother out for coffee and cake. Moms like that sort of thing.

“How’s your boyfriend?” she asks, evidently trying to veer the subject away from Jeremy’s newly shaved lack-of-locks.

“He’s good,” Jeremy says, smiling into the froth of his minty hot chocolate. “We’re… we’re really good.”

“Hmmm. Well, as long as neither of you have run out of date ideas yet, you should be strong for a long time. Your dad still takes me to the cinema once a week, you know--”

And, to Jeremy’s displeasure, his ringtone goes off. No, not for his cell phone - for his _other_ cell phone. _Rats_.

“I think I’m gonna have to cut this short, Mom,” he says sadly, and picks up.

“Jeremy--”

“--Yeah? I… Yeah, I’ll be right in. Okay.”

“Is that work?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to go and sort something out, it’s an emergency,” he mutters, and downs his hot chocolate too quickly. The mint burns cool on his tongue. “I’m really sorry, Mom, can we talk about it tonight and rearrange for tomorrow?”

 

* * *

 

 

Ryan is sweating fucking _bullets_ under his stupid, fucking dumbass mask. What a lucky damn day to wear it. What a fucking stroke of luck.

“Not so good at math, are you, stranger?”

Geoff smooths down the lapels of his suit as casually as if he’d said, _nice weather today_ , instead of baiting a rival gang lord.

“What’s that s’posedta mean?”

“I count four,” Geoff remarks. “Four extra guys. It’s _s’posedta_ be three. We _agreed_ , Seamus.”

Seamus Dooley is standing across the warehouse, in a line of crew members from the Boston Nitros. They outnumber the Fakes by one - Vagabond, the Kingpin, the Sauce, and, to allow for maximum uneasiness to set in, _Shifty Larry_. (That was the excuse Alfredo gave, anyway. Ryan secretly thinks he may have just woken up next to Shifty Larry and invited him along out of cheerful awkwardness, because that’s just how Alfredo was.)

“Call someone, then,” Seamus says stiffly. “I’m not sending any of my men away. They’re here for safety.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Geoff says, gritting his teeth, and pulls out his burner cell.

Ryan waves to get his attention.

 _Not Jeremy_.

 _Why?_ responds Geoff.

Ryan tries to keep his signing fluid: _he’s... got plans today?_

 _Yeah,_ Geoff signs back, rolling his eyes, _and now those plans are us._

“What’s going on here?”

“The hearing loss is setting in, Grandpa Seamus, I’m sure you know all about that,” Geoff bites back, and calls Jeremy.

Fuck. _Fuck_ , fuckity shit. Ryan ignores the prickles of sweat that roll down his neck, and waits for his boyfriend to arrive.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing Jeremy notices, as he shrugs on his suit jacket and dons his hat after pulling into the warehouse parking lot, is that there are an _awful_ lot of cars out here. Yikes.

He wanders into the main body of the building; seemingly, whatever trade was planned has been put on hiatus, because the two groups have split off to opposite ends of the enormous room. The Fakes are closest, so he heads over. Behind them are several sealed boxes on palettes - presumably crammed full of weapons for an exchange.

“Geoff,” he nods.

“Oh, thank Christ you’re here. We were outnumbered and whilst I don’t _mind_ the Boston Nitros, I don’t _trust_ them--”

“Calm down, god,” he says, because the second thing Jeremy’s noticed is that Ryan’s sweating nine millimeters over in the corner, even under the skull mask. His boyfriend’s doing that shaky hand thing he does when he’s too excited. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

“Boston Nitros boss brought another person with him when he was told not to, we’re all on high alert, honestly, just keep your head down and we’ll be outta here,” Ryan says frenetically, waving away the danger--

Jeremy yanks him by the arm to one side.

“What’s _really_ going on?” he demands.

“Nothing!”

“ _Ryan--_ ”

“Please don’t do that thing your sister does, god, okay,” Ryan says. Jeremy’s staring him right in the eyeholes of the mask, and it’s piercing, to say the least. “Listen, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to interact with these guys. They’re from your home turf, after all, maybe we should--”

“Maybe we should trust Geoff,” Jeremy says, raising an eyebrow. “C’mon, Bad-Vibes-Vagabond… Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

Ryan sighs with defeat. The collar of his jacket is rubbing against his skin uncomfortably, damp with nervousness. “I… Yeah, okay. I’m sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Jeremy grins, clapping him on the arm and rejoining the group.

 _Fuck_.

They line up again, the boxes behind them at a safe distance and the Boston Nitros in front of them at a much _less_ safe distance. Geoff and Seamus are practically having a stand off.

“Now, let me make this clear,” Geoff says, at the same time as Seamus begins to say, “I don’t like your operations, Ramsey,” and holy shit, it’s all going to shit.

Jeremy stiffens beside him.

“And who’s this eyesore? This your new recruit?”

“Hey, I take offense at that,” says Alfredo, “he’s been here three years longer than me and he’s still getting all the ‘newbie’ credit--”

“...What the fuck is this?” says Jeremy, very quietly.

Ryan doesn’t react, or does his best not to. His heart is hammering in his chest.

“Is… Is this some kind of joke, Geoff?” Jeremy asks, “because you’ve told funnier, I’ll be honest--”

“Is that you, Jeremy?”

“Yes, dad, it’s me, _ha_ ha,” he replies, sounding annoyed. “I thought only Mom was in Los Santos? God. This is a piss-poor prank, guys--”

Ryan’s had enough.

“Jere, please,” he says, and pulls off his mask. Underneath, he’s sure he’s pallid and sweaty - he can feel his hair sticking to his forehead, knows his blacked out eyes are oily, knows he probably looks _ill_ \- “it’s… uh. Yeah.”

“What’s going _on?!_ ” Geoff says, in a very shrill voice.

“You’re meeting the in-laws,” Ryan tells him dryly. “Seamus Dooley, _Geoff?_ You seriously didn’t get that?!”

“...N’aw, yeah.”

“Jeremy, what the hell are you doing with the Fake AH Crew?” Seamus asks, “I thought you were out with your mother today? I thought you worked in digital security? What--”

“--Could ask you the same thing, with the Boston Nitros! The _Nitros_ , Dad? Really?!”

“Cram it, kid, I thought I raised you better than this. I set you up for life and you _lie to me_ ,” Seamus seethes.

“Oh, yeah? Well, apparently I’m your spitting image,” Jeremy bites back viciously.

“Guys - _Dooleys_ \- please,” says Ryan, and immediately regrets it, because now two furious pairs of eyes are on him and the rest of the crew members are looking very expectant.

“ _Why didn’t you tell me,_ ” say both of them.

“Hey, hey!” he says, throwing his hands up in faux-surrender, “ _he--_ ” he points at Jeremy, “asked me not to tell, and then I thought, ‘ _hey, maybe my boyfriend’s dad won’t be so impressed if I divulge a decades-kept secret to his only son’_ , so that sorta sealed the deal. Okay?”

Jeremy stops in his tracks.

(“Shiiiiit,” whispers Larry.)

“So,” says Seamus, flicking a finger between the two men, “your boyfriend’s the _Vagabond?”_

One of the Nitros snorts. “Your kid’s a--”

“Shut up, O’Connor.”

“No, but he’s really a--”

Seamus quick-draws his pistol from its holster, and shoots one of his own henchmen between the eyes. The other three men take a hasty few steps back.

“Told you I wouldn’t tolerate your language,” Seamus mutters. “That’s not how we do things in Boston.”

“ _Dad--_ ”

“Sorry about that, Ramsey,” he says, with a dusting of hands. “We’ll do the clean up. It’s been a fuckin’ strange afternoon, but I’d, uh, still like to exchange…”

“You would?” Geoff says in surprise.

“Yeah. With an extra fifty for your troubles.”

“And,” says Geoff, “the distillery in Nashville, for yours. Fakes don’t need it anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

And with minimal back and forth - plus some _very_ bewildered looks between Alfredo, Larry, and Seamus’ remaining crew members - Geoff and Seamus manage to negotiate their arms trade deal to completion.

Before they part ways, Jeremy steps forwards.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” he says quietly. “I... know you always woulda been against this.”

Seamus stares, and then glances at Geoff.

“He good?”

“Hmm?” says Geoff.

“My _boy_ , Ramsey. Is he good?” Seamus asks, “is he loyal? Does he do the job right?”

Geoff shrugs. “He’s as good as any of us,” he says, but Ryan thinks that’s probably not as high praise as Seamus might interpret it to be.

Seamus nods. He turns to Jeremy again.

“Then I’m sorry too,” he decides. “If I could have let you know, I would have.”

“I know.”

“Don’t forget to rearrange with your mother.”

“No, I won’t.”

The Nitros head to the rear door of the warehouse; the Fakes begin to disperse to the front. But as Ryan’s pulling his mask back on, Seamus twists on his heel and delivers one final, parting shot:

“See you at Christmas, kid.”

And then they’re gone.

Ryan doesn’t stop shaking all the damn way back to their safehouse. From their places in the backseat, Jeremy rests his head on Ryan’s shoulder, and doesn’t let go of his hand the whole time.

“I think that went pretty well,” he says, his voice muffled against the leather jacket.

Ryan swats his thigh.

“Your family are going to _murder_ me one day.”

“Yeah, I know. Good way to go out, though.”

“Guess it is,” Ryan says, and presses a kiss against Jeremy’s hat, and adjusts their grip where his palms are still sweaty. Christmas has never been so _scary_ before; he’s willing to give it a shot.

**Author's Note:**

> My [main blog](http://futureboy.tumblr.com/) and [fic blog](http://futureboy-ao3.tumblr.com/) are here. Come say hi! B)


End file.
